Page 21 of Shark

He looked away from her and pounded the bag, one blow after another. The anger diffused, and in its place a familiar hollow pain cut deep. The one he needed to fill, always yawning wide and bottomless as soon as he let the anger go. He hated it more than he hated the anger.

The memory of kissing Maddy, of her delectable body against his, filled his mind. All those curves taunted him as she draped the sarong onto the back of the deck chair. Now that he’d tasted her, he couldn’t stop the craving.

Whack.

More combos, hammering at the bag with a double jab, a small upper-body dodge from the waist, right cross, and then, with a quick distribution of his weight, a left hook. He kept at it, making up the combos as he went, until his chest was heaving, and he was drenched.

He stepped back, dancing a bit to loosen up. It wasn’t good form to tighten up. Everything in boxing was about staying relaxed.

After a brief rest, he went back to it, desperate to get her out of his system.

Twenty minutes later, exhausted and sweating, he gave up and left the gym, went up the stairs, got his swimming trunks from his duffel, and rinsed off quickly in Brawler’s shower. When he came out, he stopped dead. Beast’s kennel was open, and the dog was nowhere in the room.

Where was everyone?

He toweled off, rubbed at his hair and slipped into his trunks, grabbed a beach towel from one of the racks near the door and left the room. He went downstairs and glanced around, but no one was there.

He sighed and headed for the pool deck. Stepping outside, the heat from the waning day hit him. Then he saw Beast. He was lying next to Maddy’s chair, splayed out, soaking up the sun without a care in the world.

“Maddy? What are you doing?”

She snorted at that, not even fazed. “Sunbathing before it goes down,” she said, rising up and frowning. “What does it look like I’m doing?” Her eyes went over him, and she huffed and looked away, her nostrils flaring.

“Don’t get sassy, and you have to know that I’m asking about Beast.” Okay, she seemed miffed, and he wasn’t sure exactly why. “What is he doing out of his kennel without Brawler being here? That’s just not done. He’s not a pet. He’s an MWD, and he’s dangerous.”

She lifted her chin and gave him a cool look. “What? No, he’s not.” Her face softened as she stared down at the dog. “He’s a sweetie, and he looked so pathetic in his cage. So, I let him out.” She bent down and rubbed his head. “Who’s a good boy?” she cooed.

Shark wasn’t sure what to do. He wasn’t a dog handler but leave it to Maddy to tame the big Malinois. Beast panted and wagged his tail, and he just decided to ignore it.

He sighed and said, “Where is everyone?”

Her gaze flicked to his and he caught it and held it. “They went to dinner. You were gone, and I didn’t feel like eating since we had a late lunch. If you’re hungry, the cook left some chicken and potato salad.” He was hungry all right, but his appetite had nothing to do with food. “Where did you go, anyway?”

“PT.”

She rolled her eyes. “What?” There was that miffed tone again.

“Work out. I did a five-mile run, then hit the bag in your gym.” He kept his tone light, not sure what had set her off.

“You say a five-mile run like it’s no big deal.” She sat up and reached for the suntan lotion. “Could you help me with my back?” she asked.

His whole body twitched at the thought of touching her. He eyed her back, the long fall of her hair reaching the center. “Believe me. It isn’t,” he growled. His palms tingled. “I didn’t have to carry a sixty-pound ruck.” He moved toward her, feeling her impatience. Sitting down next to her, she turned to give him access to her back, plopping the bottle of lotion into his hand.

She looked over her shoulder with disbelief narrowing her eyes. “You have to be joking.”

“I’m not. Our training is intense.” The first thing he loved about the Navy was all they saw was blue. There were no rich kids, no poor kids, no black, white or brown kids. They were all Navy sailors, and the playing field was level for everyone, even a fuck up like him. He’d learned some valuable lessons that first year. One was that he refused to give up, regardless of how tough the task was. He fought hard and refused to quit. This was a tough task right here, right now.

She hadn’t moved her hair away, so he reached out and pushed the silky strands aside, hooking the mass over one of her soft shoulders. He opened the flip top and poured some lotion into his cupped hand, rubbed it between them, then touched her back, knowing that this was a monumental mistake. The feel of her smooth, sleek skin against his palms was like an electric shock throughout his system. He memorized every toned muscle of her back, and the sweet sigh she made when his hands touched her.

Shark’s lungs squeezed tight, making normal breathing difficult. Blood pounded in his temples, and his heart raced, beating hard in his chest. A long breath unraveled out of her, and he decided she was sufficiently protected from the sun. He, on the other hand, wasn’t protected from her at all.

“That’s not the only thing that’s intense,” she mumbled. He couldn’t feel anything but ensnared by her. He realized that she might be upset over what happened in the car. They had moved on to her next research area, the silence in the car mounting, but no one said anything. Once they were on their way back to Port-au-Prince, they stopped for lunch about thirty minutes afterward. She had directed most of her questions to his teammates, and he’d felt like an outcast, which, if he was being honest with himself, was his own fault.

She released a long breath of frustration that seemed to deflate most of her anger, then turned her body around to meet his gaze, her expression taking on that impish quality he adored.

“I grew up on a world stage,” she whispered. “Ever since my father entered public service, I was whisked to exotic places, some even with risk as he moved up the diplomatic ranks. I was subject to abrupt school changes—friends easy to make but impossible to keep—new places to navigate, new homes to explore, new people to take care of me because my dad was an ambassador, and my mom was so frazzled from moving from location to location or finding time for herself amongst her duties.” Her voice got more hushed. “Over time, I developed an ability to circumvent all the feelings that revolved around permanency. Instead of thinking about all the friends I was losing, I would think about how I would have time to meet new ones. I moved on and got excited about my new future friends.” She sighed. “It was often lonely and scary.” She scooted closer to him, reaching out and brushing his jaw with her fingers. “So, you see. Not everyone has the kind of upbringing they crave. So, I made lemonade.”

“My past isn’t about quaint or historical places, Maddy. It’s about loss. I can’t make lemonade because I didn’t even have lemons.”

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